


lines; meeting, crossing, staying parallell

by keptein



Series: affections (b/w) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein
Summary: "Just follow me.” The guy led him through the door behind the receptionist’s desk and into the back. Suddenly, Koutarou could hear distant buzzing, chatting and music, mere seconds before the guy opened another door and the sound came out in full force. “Keiji!” The guy called into the room. “Your three o’clock is here.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinnaminnt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnaminnt/gifts).



> this was a comm for colfox!! i'm so happy i got to write bokuakakuro again, they are my ship of ships and i really enjoyed this prompt as well. i currently have space in my queue, so. :>

As soon as Koutarou stepped into the shop, something in him shifted. The tattoo parlor, which had looked so intimidating from outside, was brightly lit, and the waiting area consisted of two worn armchairs and a comfortable-looking sofa. The walls were decked with artwork and framed photographs of inked skin. Most of it was black and white, but occasionally bold colours would shine out, brilliant reds and yellows.

The art distracted Koutarou from the rest of the room, enough that he almost jumped out of his skin when someone spoke to him. “Hello, are you here for an appointment?”

“Ah!” Koutarou turned around, eyes wide. “Hi! Yes! I’m sorry!”

“There’s no need to apologise,” the guy said, looking amused. “Who are you here to see?”

“Uh…” Koutarou pulled out a worn piece of paper, squinting at his own writing. “Agaashi?”

“Akaashi,” the guy corrected him lightly. When his head moved, Koutarou could see a row of earrings along his right ear, gleaming in the light. “You’re Bokuto, then? Here for your consultation?”

Koutarou nodded. The guy had a pierced eyebrow too, although it was hard to spot behind his unruly fringe.

“Awesome. Just follow me.” The guy led him through the door behind the receptionist’s desk and into the back. Suddenly, Koutarou could hear distant buzzing, chatting and music, mere seconds before the guy opened another door and the sound came out in full force. “Keiji!” The guy called into the room. “Your three o’clock is here.”

“Just a minute,” somebody - presumably Akaashi - replied. Koutarou tried to peer in to tell who it was, but there were a lot of people and ink and noise, and he instantly reared back. After a moment, someone stepped out, closing the door behind him. “You’re early,” he told Koutarou.

Koutarou blinked, then blushed, then beamed nervously. “Sorry! I can sit and wait if you want - it’s just, if I’m not early, I’m _super_ late, so…”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi said. His eyes were dark and arresting, and he had tattoos of roses on his arms. Koutarou was staring, but hopefully not too much. “So. Tell me about your design. Tetsurou?”

“Yeah, I’ll get the forms printed out,” the guy who’d brought him in said. “Good luck with your tattoo, Bokuto! Come see me when you’re done talking, I have some papers for you to fill out.”

“Uh, okay,” Koutarou replied, blinking. Akaashi led him to another small room, leaning against a desk. “You got my email, right?” This room was quiet, with nothing to distract him from the way Akaashi’s black tank top sat on him, showing off his arms dipped in colorful ink and the hint of more artwork curling over his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Akaashi said bluntly. “It didn’t make much sense. You want an owl?”

“Ah - yeah…! But a geometric one? You did one a few months back, I, uh, I follow you on instagram, and I saw it and thought it looked really cool, which is why I came here…”

“Right.”

“But in colour. And a lot of yellow… I was thinking the owl is in black and white, but it has yellow eyes and a yellow background.”

“Like moonlight?” Akaashi inquired.

“No, not that pale-- something warmer. Does that make sense?”

Akaashi smiled, the first hint of a good nature Koutarou had seen so far - and his smile was gorgeous, small and pointed. “Yes. I can tell I’ll have to suspend my disbelief… owls primarily live by moonlight, you know.”

Koutarou laughed. “There are day owls! You can usually tell by their eyes… anyway.”

“Where were you thinking?”

“On my back! Wait, look, I can show you -” He began pulling his shirt off, but Akaashi stopped him.

“That’s, ah, not necessary. I’ll get started on the design today, and then I’ll contact you to book appointments…” Akaashi started drawing while they talked, sketching angular lines into a leather notebook. They agreed on three three-hour sessions, but Koutarou couldn’t look away from Akaashi’s hand. “I’ll email you,” Akaashi said finally after they were done discussing, closing his notebook. “And we’ll set dates when the design is finalised.”

“Sounds good,” Koutarou said. Akaashi quirked an eyebrow, and he startled, standing up. “Right! Okay, yeah, I’ll - I’ll be waiting.”

Akaashi nodded, and Koutarou left to go back to the front room, cheeks red. Tetsurou was bending over some paperwork by the desk, which didn’t help his cheeks at all. “Uh… Tetsurou?”

He looked up, surprised. “Call me Kuroo,” Tetsurou said, straightening. “Only people who’ve seen me naked get to call me Tetsurou.”

“But Akaashi,” Koutarou started, then trailed off, face burning again. Oh.

“Exactly,” Kuroo said, looking at him challengingly.

Shit. “I’m sorry!” Koutarou held up his hands, apologetic. It was embarrassing enough that Kuroo had caught him checking Akaashi out - hopefully Akaashi himself hadn’t, or Koutarou was going to have some real awkward nine hours in his company. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to offend or anything, I promise - and I’m not gonna try anything, I swear, not that I could win out against you, ‘cause _wow_ \- “

“Bokuto,” Kuroo interrupted him, face softening with a genuine smile. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” He shuffled some papers, then handed them to Koutarou. “Fill these out, please. You can take them home with you as long as you bring them to your first session.”

Koutarou took them, thoroughly embarrassed. “Thanks.”

“A lot of customers hit on Keiji,” Kuroo said after a moment, watching Koutarou put the papers in his bag. “I guess I got a little aggressive.”

“They don’t hit on you?” Koutarou asked, looking at him.

Kuroo looked surprised again, although Koutarou didn’t think the notion of somebody hitting on Kuroo was surprising at all. “Not as much,” he said, then grinned. “But thanks, man. I'll see you soon.”

“Bye,” Koutarou said, and that was that.

For now.

*

The first session is loud, and scary, and it makes Koutarou’s back itch and ache. Akaashi is quiet, but his music is noisy, and Koutarou is unable to relax until he comes back home, worn and nervous to the bone.

The second session is hazy and tired, Akaashi's hands steady on his back and Kuroo's smile a soft relief when he comes out. “Good time?” he asks, and Koutarou nods, half-asleep already.

“Yeah,” he says. “Your boyfriend’s good with his hands.”

Kuroo laughs, delighted. “See you,” he calls, and Koutarou waves over his head as he leaves.

The third session is different.

*

“Hey, stranger,” Kuroo drawls when Koutarou comes in for his final appointment. “How is it?”

“Tender,” he admits, coming up to lean against the desk. “Mostly ‘cause I took a beating at work, though. It’s busy here today.”

“Just for a couple of hours, they’ll all empty out before you’re done. You’re a teacher, right?” Kuroo asks, and Koutarou blinks. It’s weird, the tidbits of information they’ve shared over the course of these half-meetings, these pockets of waiting time.

“Uh, yeah. Physical education.”

“Admirable.”

“Is it?” Koutarou asks, bemused, but Kuroo doesn’t have time to reply before Akaashi pops his head out of the studio, gesturing him inside. “See you,” Koutarou tells him, clapping him on the shoulder before walking in.

“How are you?” The studio smells like ink and rubbing alcohol. There are two other people getting tattoos, sprawled over their respective benches with tattoo artists bent over them, and Akaashi looks calm as he sits down on his stool, waiting.

“I’m good,” Koutarou says, tugging his t-shirt off. It’s even hotter in here than it is outside, stagnant and clingy, and standing bare-chested only allows Koutarou a moment of relief. “And you?”

“I’m well.”

“Not too tired?” It’s gonna be a long day.”

A smile flickers over Akaashi’s face and he shakes his head. “I’m fine, but thank you. Lie down, please.”

“Oh - right.” Koutarou lies down on the bench, already covered in plastic wrap, and bares his back to Akaashi. After a moment, cool latex gloves touch his skin.

“It’s healing well.”

“I love it,” Koutarou says honestly, head turning to catch a glimpse of Akaashi. “It’s beautiful.”

Akaashi hums softly in agreement. “It suits you,” he says, and somehow that feels like the highest compliment Koutarou could ever receive. Akaashi thinks his artwork is at home on Koutarou’s skin. That’s awesome, Koutarou thinks, and hides his smile in the plastic.

“Are you ready?”

Koutarou inhales and nods, relaxing as he breathes out. “Yup.”

“Stay still,” Akaashi says, which he does every time, and then the distinct whirring of his ink pistol starts up, mere moments before Koutaoru feels sharp pinpricks on his lower back.

He closes his eyes, listening to the buzz of Akaashi’s machine, the rock music that’s playing, and the rotating fan in the corner that occasionally blesses him with sweet relief from the sweltering heat. The first hour is the most painful, before the endorphins and numbness kick in. Akaashi takes hourly breaks, unless Koutarou asks for more - and he never asks for more.

“Is it okay?” Akaashi asks after a few minutes, wiping away blood and ink with a paper towel.

Koutarou hums in agreement, not opening his eyes.

“You’re quiet. Usually you won’t stop speaking.”

“‘S too hot to talk,” Koutarou says, wincing as the needle nears his spine.

“Breathe,” Akaashi commands, lifting the pistol until Koutarou relaxes again. “It is hot today. How was your work?”

“Are you making conversation?” Koutarou asks with a weak laugh. “It was fine. I fell on my ass a few times from demonstrating different stuff, ‘n then I made them tell each other why hydration is important… ‘specially when it’s like this.”

“That seems like cheating,” Akaashi says mildly, pausing to concentrate on pricking a fine line up to Koutarou’s shoulder blade. “Did you slack off, then, while you made your students do your work for you?”

“Peer teaching is important,” Koutarou protests. Akaashi goes back over the bone, and he can’t help his sharp inhale, forcing himself not to pull away.

“Sorry,” Akaashi says, not sounding particularly apologetic. “Remember that you’ll never have to do this again after today.”

Koutarou hisses and relaxes forcefully. The thought of never coming back isn’t soothing at all.

“Breathe,” Akaashi tells him again, quieter. The cold air from the fan blows over him for a few seconds before it turns away, and the oppressive heat returns. Koutarou breathes it in.

An eternity later, interspersed with occasional conversation and muffled hisses of pain, Akaashi sits back. “You can get up,” he says. “I have to get something to eat.”

Gingerly, Koutarou lifts himself off the bench, grunting when it aggravates the itching lines on his back. “Can I go outside?”

Akaashi looks over him, gaze lingering on the indecency of his bare chest. “No,” he says finally. “Sorry. You can go into the waiting room, but it’s not good practice to let people go outside in the middle of a session.”

Koutarou sighs and slumps, exaggerated, but it pulls at his new tattoo and he quickly straightens again. “I’ll go say hi to Kuroo!”

“Have fun,” Akaashi says, taking his gloves off and heading to the staff room in the back. Koutarou blinks, looking after him for a moment before heading to the reception.

Kuroo looks up from where he’s bent over the registry, eyebrows rising when he sees him. “Hey, dude. Don’t get us arrested for indecency now."

Koutarou laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not like I can put my t-shirt back on. Besides, it's too hot."

"True," Kuroo agrees, wiping performatively over his forehead and brushing his fringe away. The silver in his eyebrows gleam at Koutarou. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Koutarou says. "Akaashi's good at what he does, you know."

"I certainly can't complain."

“Do you have any tattoos?” Koutarou looks over Kuroo, interested, but he still can’t see any ink on him.

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies, grin widening when Koutarou looks even more intrigued. “Maybe I’ll let you see ‘em.”

“Oh…?” Koutarou trails off, suddenly unsure. Kuroo is wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and if Koutarou can’t see it now, then it must be somewhere… but he can’t be hitting on him. There’s Akaashi, after all, and Kuroo was so possessive over him when they first met, so Kuroo’s tattoo is probably on his back or on his shin - somewhere relatively innocuous, but inappropriate to bare in the workplace. Which is a hypocritical thought, Koutarou thinks as he looks down at himself, but he’s not the one who works here.

“It’s already quieter,” Kuroo says, pulling Koutarou out from his thoughts. “I told you the rush would die down.”

“Oh.. yeah.” Koutarou looks around. “How come?”

Kuroo shrugs. “The tattoo slots are pretty firm, so they’re working all day, but people wanting to get pierced usually want to come in on their lunch break or straight after work. Or just the afternoon generally, if they’re students.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m done when you are, actually,” Kuroo says, looking at him. Koutarou looks back, eyes wide. “Akaashi too.”

“Good? That’s - good, I’m glad…! It’s pretty late, so, that’s, cool, I’m happy for you guys.”

Kuroo blinks and laughs, shaking his head. He opens his mouth to speak, but Akaashi calls Koutarou’s name from the studio, head sticking out. “That’ll be you,” Kuroo says, reaching out to clap Koutarou on the shoulder gently. “See you in an hour.”

“See you,” Koutarou says, walking back to the studio where Akaashi is already sitting by his stool again, specks of rice by the corner of his mouth. “Uh, you have something…”

Akaashi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looks at it and eats the rice grains off it. Koutarou hates that he’s attracted to the whole process. “Are you ready to start back up?”

“Uh - yeah.” Koutarou lies back down, pillowing his head on his arms, and soon enough, the steady whirr starts back up. He closes his eyes, trying to relax, and Akaashi bends over him, the needle digging into his back again.

The second hour, all he can think about is Kuroo. Koutarou knows he overthinks. He knows, and yet he can’t stop himself - and it serves as a decent distraction to the painful sensation of Akaashi’s needle. It doesn’t even feel like he’s tattooing his skin anymore. It feels like Akaashi is branding Koutarou’s bones, impressing them with ink that will last forever, and Koutarou’s skin is like a paper towel in the face of his pistol. But Kuroo…

Even if he didn’t mean anything by it, it still meant _more._ Seeing each other more. Seeing each other again. Maybe Kuroo forgot this is his last session? But even then, he clearly hinted at a context outside of this parlor. But maybe Koutarou is misunderstanding. But maybe he _isn’t,_ and Kuroo wants to go somewhere after his appointment. But Koutarou is gonna be sore as hell. But he might not get this chance again. But - but - but -

 _“Relax,”_ Akaashi says, cutting through the noise. “If you tense up, you’re just making it worse for yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koutarou says grumpily. “You’re not the one being stabbed over and over.”

“Do you want a break?” Akaashi sounds surprised, and the needle stops. Koutarou exhales.

“No,” he says. “Sorry. Keep going.”

“You don't have to apologise,” Akaashi says, a touch concerned, but he goes back to tattooing.

Koutarou makes sure to stay relaxed, but he can't stop himself from thinking about Kuroo. His thoughts swirl, moving from Kuroo to Akaashi back to Kuroo, and he feels anxious and dizzy and hurt, but that's mostly from the needle.

Akaashi touches his neck, a gentle touch that makes Koutarou startle. “Let's have another break.”

“Has it been an hour yet?”

“Yeah. Have some water, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“Impossible,” Koutarou says, sitting up and getting his water bottle out of his bag. “I taught it today, remember? I’m hydrated as shit. My pee’s the perfect colour.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Akaashi says after a pause, and Koutarou realises what he’s just said to a dude he wants to maybe bang, mostly befriend. The prickling at his back is cold and painful, and he stands up with jittery motions.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Kuroo again! Do you wanna come?”

Akaashi shakes his head, taking off his gloves and putting them in the trash. “It’s inappropriate,” he says dryly.

“What - really? This place comes after you for that kinda stuff?”

“Better safe than sorry,” Akaashi replies. He looks sad, or bored, or both. His face is hard to read, and Koutarou wants to spend hours learning its language.

Fucking hell, he tells himself. Stop with that. Maybe the air will help stop him being such a creepy idiot. Even though it’s only marginally cooler in the waiting room, he goes.

“Welcome back,” Kuroo says. “I’m dying.”

“What!?”

“Of heat. It’s too damn warm.” His hair has clumped together with sweat, unhappy eyes shining out from underneath his messy fringe. “How’s the tattoo?”

“Hurting.”

Kuroo nods sagely. “They tend to do that,” he says, and Koutarou laughs, leaning against the desk.

“You know - when you first came in for your consultation…” Kuroo starts, before trailing off.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t bite your head off for no reason. It’s inappropriate to date clients.”

It takes a moment for Koutarou to follow, but then he remembers. _Only people who’ve seen me naked,_ Kuroo had said, because he and Akaashi are dating. “Is that why you two don’t hang out? Like, he never wants to come out and hang out with you.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, surprised.

“That’s weird. I’d wanna see my boyfriend all the time.” Koutarou’s tongue feels too big in his mouth, clumsy as he tries to show Kuroo that he’s - the same, even if that doesn’t really matter.

Kuroo laughs. “We’re not boyfriends,” he says, a cunning look in his eye. “Well, I suppose we are… but our relationship is open.”

“It’s complicated?” Koutarou jokes.

“Something like that.” Kuroo looks amused.

An open relationship. The words are just now hitting Koutarou - that means there’s a chance? Or is there? Which one would he possibly go for? Shit. Was that way too presumptuous? He’d be a lucky guy to try for either of them.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, yeah, I’m good, I’m great--! I, uh, need some water before we start up again, so - I have to go, I’ll see you!” He shuts up as soon as he can, and hurries back to the studio, finding his water bottle and drinking heavily.

Akaashi looks at him, brow creased. “Are you alright?”

“You know, people ask me that a lot,” Koutarou says, wiping his mouth and putting his bottle down. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d be worried.”

The non-sequitor makes Akaashi snort, tugging on a new pair of latex gloves. “I’m ready when you are.”

Koutarou swallows and nods, lying down again, and then there are steady hands on his back.

The third hour is predictable.

Akaashi or Kuroo?

Akaashi is incredibly hot. Koutarou wants him to step on him, one hundred percent, without a doubt. He’s cool, and he’s witty in that dry way that Koutarou admires, and Koutarou really wants to get to know him better.

Kuroo is _also_ incredibly hot. Koutarou wants him to step on him too, but mostly he just wants to get high and watch a bad movie and learn where else he might have piercings. He’s funny, and he’s Koutarou’s kind of dude… and unlike Akaashi, he’s the one Koutarou might have a shot with.

The pain of the tattoo being born on his back is nothing compared to the emotional turmoil in Koutarou’s brain. He still feels incredibly presumptuous even considering the possibility of being with either of them - he thought he’d contented himself with just being friends, but clearly he’d just repressed the want that is now welling up in his chest, overwhelming and painful.

The smell of ink and rubbing alcohol is stinging in his nose. It’s quiet now, no one else in the studio except for him and Akaashi. The fan is still whirring reliably, and the buzz of the pistol is ever-present, but the heat is finally starting to give. Koutarou’s skin feels clingy and tight, and he’s suddenly aware of how bad he must smell. “Sorry,” he says.

“Hm?” Akaashi stops.

“I, uh - I must be really smelly. Been sweating a lot today.”

“It’s fine.” Akaashi starts up again. Koutarou’s head hangs low, heart beating in his chest. He’s such a fucking idiot. The air feels even heavier now, thicker with embarrassment.

He can ask Kuroo out. Just… for a meal, maybe. To an izakaya. That could be friendly, too, not just romantic.

Akaashi stops again, and Koutarou waits patiently for him to start back up until he realises that Akaashi is wiping his numbened skin gently with a wet towel and sitting back. “Are we - done?”

“We’re done,” Akaashi confirms. “I’m just going to wrap it up for you. You know how to take care of it now?”

“Yeah,” Koutarou says, jittery with excitement and nerves as Akaashi wraps plastic film across his back, sealing it shut with tape. He stands up as soon as Akaashi pulls away, turning to look at it in the mirror. “It looks so awesome!”

“It does,” Akaashi says confidently. When Koutarou grins at him, he gives a small smile back, visibly pleased. “You can put your shirt back on when you’re ready, and then I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh - oh, right.” Koutarou swallows, shoulder slumping before he can help himself, and he moves to put his t-shirt back on gingerly. “I took out cash before coming, so that’s all sorted.”

“Great.” Akaashi watches him, dark, precise eyes following Koutarou’s movements. “Bokuto… how much has Tetsurou told you about our policy regarding customers?”

Koutarou winces as the t-shirt settles on his sore shoulders. “Not much, is there anything I need to do?”

“No,” Akaashi says. He stands up, but doesn’t move closer to him. “Tetsurou and I are going out to eat. Do you want to join us?”

“Join - you…?” Koutarou’s voice squeaks, and he clears his throat desperately. “Um - I mean, yeah, sure, are you sure you don’t mind? Kuroo told me you were, like, dating? Or something?”

Akaashi smiles. It isn’t reassuring in the slightest, but it sends a jolt up Koutarou’s spine, an entirely different kind of heat from the one that’s been permeating the day. “If you’re comfortable with it,” Akaashi says, “you’re welcome.”

“I - yeah, I mean - _yeah,_ if you’re - yeah…!”

Akaashi nods and wets his lips, and the sheen of spit is mesmerising. “You can go speak with Tetsurou, then. I need to close up here.”

“Uh - okay!” Koutarou grabs his bag and hurries out of the room.

“Oh, hey!” Kuroo stands up as soon as he sees him. “I dunno if he told you, but Keiji and I are grabbing a bite - do you wanna join?”

“He already asked me,” Koutarou says miserably, sinking down with his head on the desk. “Kuroo! This is so unfair!”

“Uh… what?”

“You’re both _so hot!_ And you’re asking me out? Together? Or are we like - are we just gonna be friends, but I just fucked it up by saying I find you both hot? Because if so, please just forget about it, we never have to talk about it again, but you like - went out of your way to clarify that your relationship’s open, and now you’re asking me out to eat!”

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo says, smiling. “Do you mind?”

 _“No,”_ Koutarou moans, twice as miserable. “It’s too good! But I’m gonna be really sore and nervous the whole time!”

“That’s fine.” Kuroo sorts a few papers on his desk, effortlessly moving around where Koutarou’s face is mushed against the wood. “You’re really cute, you know that?”

“Eh!” Koutarou’s head shoots up, staring at him. “You think so?”

Kuroo grins. “Yeah. Keiji does, too.”

“Does what?” Akaashi asks, coming out and closing the studio door behind him.

“You think Bokuto’s cute,” Kuroo explains, and Koutarou hides his face again.

“Oh. Yes.”

_“What!?”_

Akaashi shrugs. “It’s true. Have you paid yet, or are you still technically my customer? Because if so, I’m not hitting on you.”

Koutarou immediately opens his bag, digging out the notes and handing them to Akaashi. “Here! Take them!”

“I’ll take those,” Kuroo says, taking the notes from Koutarou’s hands and putting them in the registry hidden beneath his desk. “Now you’re officially not his customer.”

“You’re very cute,” Akaashi says, smiling as Koutarou turns red, hiding his face again. “Will you go out with us?”

“I - yeah, I mean, yeah, of _course,_ you’re… holy shit…”

“Please don’t pass out.” Kuroo comes up to him, hands already outstretched. “You need to eat, your body’s been put under a lot of stress.”

“You can say that again,” Koutarou says faintly, looking between them. “You’re - we’re really - we’re really doing this?”

Akaashi nods.

“It’s just one date,” Kuroo says. “We’ll take it from there. Who knows, maybe we’ll be perfect for each other.”

Koutarou swallows. Akaashi reaches out, squeezing his arm. “He’s teasing you,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Koutarou says, just as faint. “I…”

Akaashi sighs and leads them both towards the door. “Let’s go,” he says, “before you do pass out.”

The air outside is fresh now, a light breeze winding through the streets of Tokyo. Akaashi and Kuroo lead the way, Kuroo eagerly explaining jokes and references to Koutarou while Akaashi gives them occasional long-suffering glances. Koutarou walks in the middle of them, and although his back is stinging and his hands are shaking with tension, there’s an immediate sense of hope here. It’s a long shot, but so is everything else that’s come true today, and he hopes Kuroo is right: maybe they will be perfect for each other.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twit](http://twitter.com/tivruskis) / [tungl](http://tivruskis.tumblr.com)


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